Aftertaste
by Playing-Dead
Summary: Kurt realises he's developed another highschool crush, but this time he's not going in without all the facts. My oneshot Taste The Rainbow fits between Chapter 2 and 3 of this fic.
1. Chapter 1

Kurt was lounging on his bed, sifting aimlessly through his moisturiser collection. Throwing down the silvery tub clutched in his hand and picking up a compact mirror from his nightstand, he flipped open the lid and stared at himself.

"He doesn't even talk. I mean I know he can because he sings in glee club, but even then he sings ridiculously quietly. I had to practically shove my ear under his mouth to hear anything."

"Yeah, that was weird. Matt looked super uncomfortable."

Kurt squinted at the compact before snapping it closed and glaring across the room at Finn slouched gracelessly across his couch killing some alien things on Kurt's TV screen. As Kurt watches, Finn's mouth drops open and some drool escapes, causing a shudder to run through Kurt's body. Only a few months ago Kurt would have considered that string of saliva the most alluring thing in the library of all human experience. Now, as he watched the glob impact Finn's collar, he just felt a little horrified that someone so close to his wardrobe was capable of such wanton damage to clothing. Though Finn was wearing a shirt that was probably dirty and defiantly heinous, Kurt wasn't sure that Finn was capable of distinguishing between Walmart and Alexander McQueen. With a quick glance at his wardrobe doors to ensure they were firmly closed, Kurt pivoted his body to face Finn head on, lips thinned, brow furrowed.

"I know that I can come across as a little intense, but I can't help it, that's just me. Matt's practically a mystery to me, which is weird seeing as we're both in glee and I was on the football team for a while with him." Kurt practically jumps off the bed in frustration, waving his arms as he speaks, looking like an impeccably dressed windmill. "He hardly talks, which is fine if you're going for the strong and silent type, but it makes interpreting any signals completely impossible. Short of attaching an antenna to my head I'm just going to have to go up to him and shake him until he speaks. Or something like that, because I definitely can't pull off a forehead antenna." Kurt sighed, and collapsed in a huff in the chair next Finn.

"Wait, I'm sure you wore something like an antenna for that Gaga dude's song. Oh wait, I forgot about your gay radar thing, do you think you'll mess that up with the antenna?" Finn said as he blew up another alien's brain, though Kurt wasn't entirely convinced that it wasn't his own that just exploded.

Cupping his ears, as if to catch any escaping brain matter, "There's so much wrong with that question that I don't know where to start. Give me a second. Okay. Gay radar. Where did you even hear about that? I assume you mean gaydar, right? That thing that lead me to believe that you could have been interested in me _like that_" Kurt feels obligated to stress the last two words to prove to himself and the world that he can acknowledge the most uncomfortable crush in the history of Lima, and the fact that he is so far over it that he's practically in orbit.

"Huh. Yeah, I guess you're not that good at rooting out the sneaky gays persuading our society. You'd need like, a really big antenna to fix your gay radar. Gaydar. Huh. Cool name. You're always so smart at stuff like that."

Rolling his eyes and fixing them skywards as if begging the ghosts of dead fashion icons everywhere to give him strength, Kurt snaps, "The word is pervading Finn, and dear Gucci, why are you watching Sue's corner?"

Kurt glared as Finn fidgeted under the weight of his bitch-face, eventually getting shot in the head by a green alien thing with tentacles and slime, forcing him to lower the controller and face Kurt. Clasping his hands together and trying to figure out a response that wouldn't cause a new 'faggy-gate' Finn stammered something to the effect of, 'news… need to understand the world around me… civic duty… international cheerleading coach...' The mash-up of _How to be a Better Boyfriend_ by Rachel Berry and _How to be Less Like Human Scum_ by Coach Sylvester was so disturbing that Kurt took pity on Finn. Placing an artfully manicured hand over closed eyes, Kurt wiped away the stupid and opens his eyes. Gone.

Kurt shifted a little in his seat, hands falling to the edge of his Valentino scarf, his slender fingers tracing the bold pattern as he composed himself. Kurt took a deep breath and pulled himself out of his hunched posture. Vulnerability might not have been a look he did often, but he was convinced he could make it fabulous.

"It's just that I kind of, could possibly consider, in a hypothetical situation, really liking Matt, you know, _in that way_, and Mercedes keeps on telling me to go for it, that he really is sending me signals, but she thought we were dating once, and she really doesn't know Matt that well, and you've known him through football for years. I guess I just wanted a second opinion, one from someone who actually knows Matt."

Panicked blue eyes suddenly shot up as Kurt realised exactly what he said. "You can't tell Mercedes that I went to you after talking to her, or that I needed a second opinion. She's my best friend and I love her, but I'm reasonably sure she'd take me to the carpet for this infraction of the best friend code."

While Finn wasn't entirely sure what an infraction was, he had had a fracture in seventh grade when he fell out of a tree and broke his arm. That was painful, and if an infraction was similar (it certainly sounded it) then he didn't want it to happen to Kurt or Mercedes, so he nodded his head saying, "Of course I won't tell her dude, we're like half-step-brothers-in-law now."

Smiling ruefully at Finn's mangling of the English language and their admittedly increasingly complex family tree, Kurt prodded, "So about Matt…"

"Well dude, I don't really know. I mean, we've been friends for years sure, but he's always been kinda quiet. Mike's the only one who really knows anything personal about him. Sorry Kurt." Finn really did look sorry as Kurt leant back into his chair, disappointed at the apparent lack of any solid information on the mysterious Matt Rutherford.

Muttering about how all the good ones are either impossible to read, straight, or just impossibly straight, Kurt stood and smoothed the non-existent wrinkles from his outfit, striding purposefully to his industrially sized make-up dresser. Sinking onto the padded seat, Kurt retreats into his practised mantra; if you can't do anything else, you can still moisturise.

Seeing that Kurt is apparently done talking, Finn heaves himself off the couch and heads to the stairs to see if Burt wants to watch a game on the wide-screen. Passing Kurt he says, "Don't worry about it Kurt, Rachel always has the best ideas for stuff like this."

Jumping up, his fist squeezing the tube of moisturiser aimed at his forehead, Kurt shrieks, "You are not telling Rachel ANYTHING about this Finn, I mean it!" Heavy-duty moisturiser rolling down his face, Kurt adds, "And Lady Gaga is NOT a man!"

A/N - So I was just writing a piece about Finn and Kurt talking about boys, and it turns out I was actually writing chapter two of Taste The Rainbow. Go figure. So if this feels kind of disconnected from the first part you know why ;). Reviews, constructive criticism and ideas are always welcome, as I'm considering writing further chapters but I'm still kinda on the Fence. Let me know what you think.


	2. Chapter 2

Matt had great forearms. Kurt was stuck in third period world history class and all he could think about was how great Matt's forearms were. His skin was a rich brown colour, the same shade as a Starbucks frappuccino, except Kurt had never salivated so much over a stupid drink, delicious and caffeine filled as it was. Matt's forearms on the other hand, well, his response was almost Pavlovian in it's intensity. Cradling his head in his hands, Kurt was itching to run his fingers along them to see if they were as smooth as they looked. Or maybe his tongue instead. He was so screwed.

Mercedes seemed to agree with this assessment of Kurt's mental state as she jabbed him with an inhumanly sharp elbow, getting his focus back just as Mrs. Whitten sidled up to their desk to ask Kurt a question on what had just been said. Mumbling something about the crusades that appeared to satisfy her, but really, she wouldn't have noticed if Kurt's answer revolved solely on how Pope Urban II had taken one look at her orthopaedic grandma shoes and decided a bloody massacre was inevitable. Kurt lowered his head back into his arms and resumed Matt-watching_. _

_Perfect forearms._

Kurt appeared to have vocalised this last thought, as Mercedes huffed besides him, muttering, "Damn homeboy, you need to stop undressing him with your eyes, a girl can only take so much."

Not moving his eyes, "I don't even have to undress him, with my eyes or otherwise. I mean look at him; his forearms are just out there on display for anyone to see. It's obscene. I can't stop looking; I'm only human. Oh, oh what is he doing? Oh my God, Mercedes do you see that? Dear Gucci, this is like torture"

All this was conveyed in a harsh whisper that became more of a high pitched whine, as Matt began to unconsciously trail the tips of his right fingers up and down his left forearm while gazing wistfully at his watch.

* * *

Matt sighed. Still a good twenty minutes before they could leave Mrs. Whitten's class, and her disturbing fascination with the crusades, and his brain could begin to erase the gory details she seemed fixated on imparting on impressionable minds. He should have known she was a complete crackpot when on the obligatory first day 'tell everyone in the class something interesting about yourself' activity, which was clearly just a way to evade teaching considering McKinley's limited student population, Mrs. Whitten's fascinating fact was that she could fit her entire fist into her mouth. Great. Really, who needs a GED with talent like that at their disposal? Odd as it was, Matt couldn't help being just a little bit thankful for his teacher's party trick, because it was as she was jamming her fist into an impressively sized mouth that he realised that his tiny, insignificant, almost-crush on one Kurt Hummel was actually turning into a major infatuation. He could clearly remember, that as Mrs. Whitten forced that obstinate fourth knuckle into her mouth with a retching-gagging-humming sound of satisfaction mixed with the imminent threat of puking, Matt was forced to look away or loose his own breakfast. Staring over his right shoulder, thinking to fix on a place on the wall to zone out on and pretend that his teacher hadn't run away from the circus, Matt caught a glance of Kurt's face. The sight of Kurt's slightly upturned button nose, crowned with a spattering of what must have been the most adorable freckles of all time, scrunched up in disgust, his bright blue-green eyes wide with horror, hit Matt hard in the gut, knocking the breath out of him for a second. Kurt seemed unable to tear his eyes away from the train wreck in front of him, so Matt was able to soak in the adorableness that was Kurt Hummel. Thirsty eyes drank in every detail, from the outlandish outfit, complete with transparent plastic trench coat to his delicate pianist's hands, all leading him to the inevitable conclusion that perhaps this gay thing wasn't just a passing phase, and if it could make him feel like this just looking at Kurt maybe he didn't want it to pass after all.

Absently dragging his fingertips along the length of his forearm Matt decided that he really needed a plan to get Kurt's attention. He wasn't foolish enough to think that Kurt was going to jump him just because Matt was the only other gay guy in Lima, not that he even knew that much, Kurt was far too picky for that. Though Matt was undeniably shy and slightly socially awkward, he wasn't unaware of his own charms, placing his faith in the idea that if he got the approach just right, maybe Kurt could look at him in the same way that he saw Kurt. Even if Kurt's feelings were only a dull reflection of his own, Matt would take what he could get. Licking his right thumb and rubbing out a smudge of ink on his left, Matt was lost in introspection as he silently built his plan to win Kurt's attention.

* * *

"You're drooling white boy. Snap out of it!" Mercedes furiously whispered as her extra pointy elbow jabbed at Kurt's ribs. You'd think Matt had jumped on his desk and started a striptease the way Kurt was reacting. As Matt sucked on his thumb and slowly rubbed out an ink stain on the other hand Kurt let out a strangled moan. "Aw _hell_ to the naw," Mercedes muttered as Kurt melted to a puddle of goo besides her. If that boy got anymore excited he was gonna catch fire. Mercedes couldn't in good conscience let such a gorgeous Marc Jacobs shirt die such an ignoble death; her boy needed the sense God gave him slapped back into that over styled head of his.

Just as Mercedes was about to launch into her 'stop drooling in class and jump him after school' speech for the second time, though she was sure this time would prove way more effective as she'd added five extra neck rolls and the pointed finger of doom, she caught sight of Finn beside her looking between Kurt and Matt looking deep in thought. Not a great look for him, as Mercedes was reasonably sure that it doubled as his constipation face. Now homeboy may not have been especially subtle in love, but if anything outweighed Kurt's conspicuousness it was Finn's own obliviousness. Eyes narrowing in suspicion, Mercedes executed a 180 neck roll so fierce as to snap Kurt out of his trance and look nervously at the gathering thunder on Mercedes' face. On the plus side there were no rocks or vulnerable windows nearby, and the floor was linoleum. She might have threatened to take him to the carpet on many an occasion, but even in full diva mode she wouldn't take him to the linoleum. He hoped.

"You told Finn." Mercedes bit out, glare increasing in intensity as Kurt moved his head slowly from side to side, trying to evade the lock her death rays had on his face. Giving it up as a lost cause Kurt gathered himself, straightened his spine, glanced around to make sure no one else in the class was listening in, and that Mrs. Whitten was still talking up a storm about something disgusting at the front of the classroom, pausing only to wince at those _things_ on her feet.

"Look, you know you're my best friend 'Cedes, and I love you to pieces, but you're not really an expert on gay men. I mean, I'm the only one you know, and you thought I was straight for ages. And as if that wasn't bad enough, you thought I had a thing for Rachel Berry. Rachel Berry, 'Cedes, _Rachel Berry_. It's a wonder I ever talked to you again!" Waving his hand to dismiss the disturbing tangent his rushed excuses had taken Kurt continued, "Anyway, it's just that Finn has known Matt for years, and he's my half-step-brother-in-law now and so it's inevitable that he's going to find out eventually." Kurt snorted, "Especially if I followed your carefully planned strategy of just 'jumping-him'," Kurt's air-quotes are particularly disdainful, causing Mercedes to puff up in indignation.

"Listen up white boy, you can tell whoever you want about whatever you want, though why you'd wanna talk to Finn about your boy crushes is beyond me, but I think you've made a mistake. No, I know you have, and it wasn't just disrespecting the plan that _will_ work. You told Finn. Finn will tell Rachel. Rachel will go insane. Colour coded charts and graphs will become involved, as will anyone within hearing range of Berry's technically passable, but emotionless voice. I will laugh." With that Mercedes huffed and turned to face the front of the class, watching Kurt's face blanch in the realisation that a Rachel Berry shaped apocalypse was on his horizon.

Damn, 'Cedes hadn't been this much of a bitch before she's started hanging out with him, thought Kurt, not without a touch of pride. That touch was overshadowed however, by the choking sensation of panic that was clawing it's was up his throat at the thought of his love life being managed by Rachel Berry. His fantasies of a perfect first kiss with Matt suddenly featured an overly energetic Rachel Berry popping out from behind a tree dressed in one of her hideous knitted sweaters with cat faces sewn on it, brandishing a stuffed binder erupting with a multitude of different coloured tags, shrilly lecturing that the first kiss couldn't happen until at least the second date, otherwise everything would be thrown completely out of order. Did Kurt want to lose his virginity in a public restroom? One full body shudder later Kurt turned imploringly towards Mercedes and broke out his killer puppy-dog eyes.

"I thought you were my friend Mercedes. I'd shove Rachel Berry into oncoming traffic for you, and I thought I could expect at least the same in return." Kurt whimpered, trying to look as downtrodden and miserable as possible.

Eyebrows raised, Mercedes resolutely looked forwards, demanding, "Can the kicked puppy look Kurt, you know I hate it."

"But it was working," he playfully whined as he let a small smile escape his lips. Losing the smile and looking seriously at Mercedes' uncompromising profile he sighed, "So what do you want?" Knowing that Mercedes is holding out for something, and willing to agree to almost anything to stave off the evil that is Rachel Berry's enthusiastic assistance, Kurt also knows when he's beaten.

"Oh baby, I don't want much. Just don't tell other people things that you tell me are secrets, without at least pre-warning me. You know I love me some secrets homeboy, but they lose their shininess the more people know. Oh, and stick to the damn plan; it's genius." Mercedes had him exactly where she wants him and she knew it. Damn that girl, Kurt thought; she was never this manipulative when we first met. Why must I be such a gifted teacher in the art of bitchy manipulation?

"I'll never tell a soul about any of our secrets again 'Cedes, but I can't go through with the plan. I just can't." Kurt looked imploringly into Mercedes' deep brown eyes. "After everything with Finn, Carole and my dad, I can't jump blindly into something like this again. I mean, sure everything's turned out okay now, but getting there was some of the most painful weeks of my life. Plus, there's no way I'll get that lucky again. If your plan bombed I'm not sure I'd survive the blast 'Cedes. I really like him." Kurt let out a shaky breath as he wondered if they could talk about the crusades again, even Mrs. Whitten's stick men's decapitations, complete with spurting arterial blood, was better than talking boy trouble.

"Kurt, I understand, I really do. You got hurt badly by that whole Finn mess. But you know where you went wrong? You didn't listen to your genius best friend. Finn was never gonna work from the start and I told you so, but I really think that Matt is different." At the unconvinced look on Kurt's face she continued, "Ok, fine you don't have to follow the plan. At least not plan A, however plan B is a go." Grinning at the Kurt's look of apprehension she prompted, "Aren't you gonna ask me what plan B is baby?"

Looking like he had just sucked a lemon, Kurt drawled, "What's plan B _baby_?"

"Talk to him. Get to know him. And by him I mean more than his _perfect forearms_." Mercedes mocked as Kurt blushed bright red. "Oh and fair warning, if you don't do it quickly, I will make it happen." As Mercedes finished her threat the bell rang and relieved sighs echoed round Mrs. Whitten's classroom.

Rising to his feet Kurt brushed past Finn who gave him a secretive, well as secretive as Finn is able to get, thumbs-up before shouting, "Hey Matt, wait up!" Stomach dropping in horror Kurt shared a look with Mercedes before he stuffed his books into his bag and hurried out the room, because while Mercedes may threaten to meddle in his love life, he at least trusted her to be a little bit sensitive about it. Finn; not so much.

The instant Kurt and Mercedes stepped out of Mrs. Whitten's class they heard the singular sound that haunted Kurt's nightmares. While Kurt was sure Peter Jackson thought his sound guys had done a great job on making the Nazgul's call as piercing and terror inducing as possible, it didn't have a thing on Rachel Berry's, "Kuuuurt". Knowing they couldn't both out run her at this close range, Rachel being surprisingly spry, Mercedes took the hit.

"Save yourself. I'll block her off, and don't worry, I'll find out what your idiot half-step-brother-in-law told her about your obsession with Matt"

Shooting Mercedes a look of mixed gratitude and annoyance, Kurt sashayed down the hallway, calling out, "Plan B is a go, 'Cedes, and thanks." There was no way in hell that he could let Rachel get to Matt first. No way in hell.

A/N - Thanks for all the great reviews for the last chapter; all are appreciated. I had a real blast writing this one and I hope you liked it too.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N - Taste The Rainbow, the Matt/Kurt oneshot that sparked Aftertaste takes place between the last chapter and this one, so you might want to read that before this chapter if you haven't already, though its not strictly necessary for this chapter to make sense.

Okay, so the casual, playing it cool, 'hey we're both in glee therefore we should commence social interaction in a relatively isolated setting' talk with Matt, otherwise known as plan B, had completely blown up in his face.

Kurt couldn't even accurately remember what he'd said he'd been so panicked. At the time it had seemed imperative that he and Matt talk and establish a relationship outside of glee before Mercedes, Finn, or heaven forbid Rachel managed to get to him first. After dodging Rachel for the entirety of yesterday, even skipping glee practice to avoid the awkward conversation sure to follow her trapping him in an enclosed space, Kurt had driven into school this morning with a fresh resolve to talk to Matt as soon as possible. Perhaps he should have given some thought to what he would actually say before striding up to Matt outside homeroom.

Though most of the conversation remained mercifully fuzzy, Kurt definitely remembered there being something about Matt having suicidal tendencies and disparaging comments having been made about his wardrobe. He may have come across as a raving lunatic, but at least two thirds of the blame had to lie on Mercedes' shoulder pads. Because seriously, while Kurt had always acted a little stupid around Matt, once he saw Mercedes trussed up and parading about like a bird of paradise in her rainbow coloured monstrosity, his already tightly wound psyche snapped, leaving him a gibbering idiot in front of Matt.

Though on the upside Matt had spoken to him. Using actual words. In sentences. Thinking about it caused a smile to slowly creep onto Kurt's face. Dear Dior he was easy. Another upshot was the idea of spending Saturday shopping with Matt, though Kurt had kind of railroaded him into it, so it could end up painfully uncomfortable if Matt didn't really want to go. Unless Kurt had actually been pushed into a stroke by Mercedes' clothing, and his brain had fabricated the whole thing, which was a distinct possibility.

Horrific as all that had been, further, and most probably greater, trauma lay directly ahead in the form of today's glee practice with Rachel. Kurt still hadn't spoken to Mercedes about how much Rachel had actually been told by Finn in his attempt to 'help', but he took the silence on the texting front as a bad sign. Mercedes was taking this secret planning and skulking around frighteningly seriously, responding to his, 'What up hot mama?' with only a cryptic 'Talk in person. Line not secure. Enact plan B ASAP'. Kurt appreciated Mercedes' understanding his cautiousness, he really did, and he could even roll with the secret agent bit, but he drew the line at rifling through Matt's trash. Or wearing all black clothing and a ski mask. Absolutely not.

Reaching his locker with the ubiquitous graffiti of phallic drawings etched into the metal surface, Kurt rolled his eyes at a new piece covering more than half of the locker's surface. And people thought Barbies perpetuated an unrealistic body type. World history with Mrs. Whitten was next and he could finally get the scoop from Mercedes, but to do that he'd have to look at her, a feat that would require sunglasses or a barf bag. Or both. Kurt donned his smoking new D&G sunglasses and grabbed his slightly worn last season Louis Vuitton bag from the bottom of his newly tagged locker, slammed his it closed and marched, spine straight, head held high, to world history. If he was about to discover his impending doom, he was most certainly about to do it with class.

Arriving before Mercedes, and even Mrs. Whitten, and noticing that Matt was already there, Kurt took his usual seat, two desks behind and one to the left, and commenced Matt watching. Feeling the slightest bit more shy about the activity than he ever had previously, being that plan B was well underway and he was actually talking to Matt now, finally on the football player's radar, Kurt knew he had to be more subtle in his Matt watching. The end result was instead of just hiding his appreciative glances behind his oversized sunglasses, Kurt was swivelling his head between the blank whiteboard at the front of the room and the side of Matt's head fast enough to get whiplash. Who said he couldn't be super sneaky?

* * *

Kurt was acting weird. From the corner of his eye Matt could see that he looked even more highly strung than usual. The constant glances at the side of his face were driving him insane. Sure, he'd hoped to get Kurt's attention with Mercedes' stunt earlier but this was a little strange. Kurt wasn't usually the shy and retiring type; and the skittishness he was exhibiting was setting Matt on edge, making him think something was wrong.

Matt surreptitiously reached up to the left side of his face to see if he had a smudge of something that Kurt had noticed and just didn't want to outright tell him. As his fingers made contact with his cheek, the frequency of Kurt's glances increased. Oh crap. Matt knew it. It was just his luck to have something pasted on the side of his face the very same day he'd finally managed to get Kurt's attention.

Kurt was still snapping his head from the whiteboard to Matt's face, so he obviously hadn't gotten the smudge yet. Moving his hand to his ear Matt saw Kurt freeze staring straight at him. Oh God, what had he managed to get on his ear? Resting the side of his face on his hand, he tried to subtly scrub his ear clean between his index finger and thumb. Matt saw Kurt blush and turn to face the front, not turning back again. He frantically rubbed his hand on his jeans to get rid of whatever was gross enough to make Kurt blush in sympathy with him. Matt locked his gaze on the front of the room; shoulders slumped with mortification, his earlier approach now shot to pieces.

* * *

Kurt couldn't believe what he'd seen. He had just been sitting there, minding his own business (and Matt's too, but that was practically his business anyway), when Matt, as calm as you please, started torturing him. That had to be against the Geneva convention on human rights, because seriously, yesterday the forearm, which was still out by the way, exposed for anyone to see, and today Matt had apparently decided to amuse himself by caressing his face. Kurt almost wanted to cry.

Fingers pressed into smooth, unblemished brown skin, eventually crawling closer to that perfectly shaped ear. Oh God, what was he doing to that ear? His finger and thumb slowly traced down its length, from cutely crinkled cartilage to deliciously studded lobe.

Kurt felt his composure evaporate in the heat of his blush. Feeling his jaw begin to unhinge, Kurt suddenly caught sight of Matt's eyes quickly glancing in his direction. Oh crap. Caught. Quickly turning to face the front, Kurt fought for his composure, feeling ridiculously thankful when Mercedes sank into the seat next to him, able to finally distract himself from Matt with her truly heinous outfit.

"Hey homeboy."

Resolutely facing forward, "I can't look at you right now Mercedes, I just can't." Turning to face her, "I just don't understand why. Why 'Cedes? Oh my Gucci. Your house burnt down didn't it? Your house burnt down, all your clothes were lost, and a particularly vicious clothing charity gave you those... those _rags_" A sympathetic expression spread across Kurt's face, or at least the small area visible beyond his huge sunglasses, because house fire or not, Kurt still preferred his retina intact thank you very much Mr. Neon Green Charity Hoodie.

"Hold up white boy. I'm fine, my house is fine, and my clothes are fine."

"Mercedes, I hate to break it to you, but your clothes are NOT fine. And neither are you if you think there's nothing wrong; you must have had some sort of psychotic break or something, because seriously," Kurt waved a hand imperiously up and down Mercedes' figure, "Not fine."

Mercedes cuffed the back of Kurt's head, dislodging his sunglasses, messing up his carefully styled hair and generally irritating him. Just as he opened his mouth to vent that irritation, Mercedes, not without some smugness, said, "Are you tripping homeboy, or didn't you notice that as a direct result of these admittedly bright clothes gracing this hot booty, that Matt Rutherford, 'Mute Matt', talked to you. Using words. Way to be grateful."

Mouth snapping shut, Kurt slowly slid off his sunglasses, and, unable to stop the instinctive squint at Mercedes' 'bright' ensemble, painted on his bitch-face.

"That fiasco was your doing? I hope you realise what a complete disaster it was. I accused him of suicidal tendencies and insulted his wardrobe, not to mention looking like a moron unable to string two words together thanks to your little catwalk. And don't call him Mute Matt."

Raising her eyebrow, Mercedes responded, "Baby, it can't have been that bad, because you haven't barricaded yourself in the girl's bathroom for a day of moisturising. I know you. Something a little good must have happened, so spill."

"Ok yeah, it wasn't all bad. There was his use of polysyllabic words, in proper syntactic order no less. And I may have sort of demanded his presence for an emergency shopping trip this Saturday. I can't decide if that was a good move or not."

"Kurt, that was genius! Maybe not genius of the Plan A variety, but you're getting there. Matt is definitely sending out Kurt flavoured vibes, and after spending an entire day with him maybe even you will be able to pick them up. They're coming over so strong I'm close to gagging. I swear white boy, aren't you supposed to have gaydar?" Mercedes looked incredulously at a defensive Kurt.

"You know I can never tell when things are personal. Give me a wanna be celebrity and two seconds of video footage and I'm better than a polygraph. In the real world of glamorous McKinley High, well, you remember Finn."

Looking at Kurt's slightly shamefaced expression, a smiling Mercedes relented, "Lucky you have me then isn't it? I also know that Matt is interested because the poor boy thought your hallway chat this morning was his idea. Hah! I even got paid."

Just as Kurt was about to quiz Mercedes on how she'd managed to work that scam, Mrs. Whitten waltzed into the classroom in a paisley muumuu and clogs. Kurt's brain melted. Attempting to reboot, he once again attempted to classify Mrs. Whitten's apparel. She was in fact wearing, on her person, a muumuu of a purple paisley persuasion while her feel clomped along in clogs. System failure. Reflexively clutching at his Louis Vuitton bag as his stomach roiled, Kurt decided that the worst thing about it, the absolute worst thing, was that Mrs. Whitten was smiling. Not a grimace of pain, nor a self-deprecating grin at her own idiocy for choosing to dress in the dark that morning. No. She was beaming. Kurt choked back a wave of nausea.

Seeing that Kurt had been rendered senseless by the alien life form masquerading as Mrs. Whitten's muumuu, Mercedes chose that instant to say, "And by the way, Finn told Rachel you like Matt. She prepared a speech. Good luck with that."

Kurt let out a small whimper. Just five hours until Glee. This day was so going to drag.

A/N 2 - Originally this chapter was going to include the Rachel/Kurt confrontation, but the chapter was turning into a bit of a monster and I'm aiming for around 2000 words per chapter, so I bumped it into the next one. Sorry for the minor cliffie. Also, I'm not sure what the kids are actually going to be doing in Glee club, so I'm open to suggestions.


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt had walked the hallways of McKinley High in a state of increasing hysteria as the day went on. The thought of any of Rachel's speeches was enough to put the fear of God into him, but one on an issue so personal and potentially embarrassing as this was, well, terrifying. The cringe factor alone was unimaginable approaching infinite. Spending the passing time between classes dodging Rachel Berry sized shadows had not helped matters for Kurt either; he was reasonably sure he had lost that just-moisturised glow around fifth period, and by the time he was working up the nerve to enter glee club he was sure he looked drab with a touch of frumpy thrown in for good measure.

Stood guard outside the choir room, like some sort of demented gargoyle, was a cheerfully determined Rachel Berry. Hands fisted at her sides, lips pressed thin and eyes darting about for signs of her prey, she made a formidable sight. The pinnacle of which being her truly appalling corn blue knitted sweater emblazoned with what Kurt could only assume were intended to be three puppies barking, but in fact looked more like a demonic Cerberus waiting to attack. The phrase dressed to kill flashed through Kurt's brain, though in Rachel's case it was more of a ritual suicide. Straightening an already impeccable posture, Kurt marched forwards. There was no way he could feel threatened by someone that fashion challenged.

Just as his feet had reached the threshold, safety just a single pace away, Rachel struck. Talon-like hands clawing Kurt's arm she manhandled him down the hallway before he had a chance to protest.

"We need to talk Kurt."

"Rachel…" Kurt struggled against Rachel's hold, but her surprisingly powerful grip held.

"I know what's going on with Matt, it's pointless denying it Kurt. I know everything."

While forming an answer that would sufficiently express his contempt for that fallacy, Kurt tried once again to squirm out of Rachel's death grip. No luck. Resigning himself captive to Rachel Berry's super-human upper body strength, (just what was that girl bench pressing anyway?), Kurt suddenly had a brainwave.

"We'll be late to glee. Mr. Schuester will have handed out all the solos."

Rachel's head snapped up at this, nose sniffing the air for the stench of leeched solos. "That would never happen Kurt. Not to be boastful," Kurt rolled his eyes, "But I am the star of New Directions."

Nevertheless, the seed of doubt had been successfully sown. Rachel's grip tightened for a second and she leaned in. "Don't worry, we'll talk after Glee."

Rachel bared her teeth in what she presumably thought was a smile as she swept into the choir room, hair whipping Kurt's face as she charged into the choir room in a pair of flats that belonged on a three year old. An unfortunate three year old.

Kurt felt a little shaky as he collapsed into his customary seat next to Mercedes – the seat farthest from Rachel. Unconsciously rubbing what was sure to become a massive claw shaped bruise on his arm, all Kurt could hear was white noise as Mr. Schuester started rambling on about the 'message' of this week's assignment.

Kurt's hearing suddenly kicked in and his heart dropped as Mr. Schuester enthused, "Rock music!"

While Kurt could appreciate the theatricality that rock music can employ, that admiration was at a distinct distance from his own performances. The idea of Kurt and rock music being mixed together was disturbing on so many levels. And it wasn't just him either. How many people in glee could actually pull off a rock number? Finn probably, what with all the drumming, Tina, with her whole goth thing and that was pretty much it. Added to their complete lack of a predisposition to rock as a group, this was show choir, not a mosh pit. Though the thought of Matt in tight leather pants and a mostly unbuttoned shirt, rasping along to Aerosmith was distracting enough to derail Kurt's internal monologue, meaning he wasn't the first to voice an objection as he was too busy surreptitiously glancing at Matt, picturing the leather pants.

"Mr. Shue, I can't express my objection to this _idea_ of yours strongly enough."

Rachel straightened in her seat, hands in her lap smoothing out the wrinkles in her pleated skirt. All ten inches of it, Kurt thought critically. While the skirt wasn't a completely horrendous idea at its core, Kurt couldn't help think that the _Catholic Schoolgirl Gone Bad_ look that Rachel seemed to be aiming for had been twisted into _Catholic Schoolgirl Gone Blind_ by her complete disregard for colour schemes. The skirt was orange, and her sweater, dear Gucci that sweater, heinous puppies included, was blue. Biting back the insane compulsion to stand and scream at the fact that Rachel had single-handedly murdered fashion and was currently dancing on its grave, Kurt closed his eyes and prepared himself for the oncoming tirade.

"While I pride myself on being a versatile performer, the genre of rock being well within my reach, it's patently unfair to hold the rest of glee club to the same exacting standards to which I hold myself. The uncomfortable truth is that as a group we simply can't do rock. Besides, this is a show choir, not a mosh pit!"

The other glee clubbers shot Rachel annoyed glances, except for Finn who was still focused on her skirt, and Kurt who was too busy being horrified at his and Rachel's synchronicity of thought. Obviously his first impression had been overly judgmental and critical if it matched Rachel's; perhaps he ought to give rock another chance.

Mr. Schuester grimaced, his internal mantra of, 'but she can sing, she can sing, she can sing' almost audible as he argued back. "Rachel, glee club is about diversity and freedom of expression, and recently its come to my attention that while all the Broadway numbers we've been doing are great for the girls," Kurt coughed, "and Kurt. Perhaps the guys want to try something new."

"But we did Journey. That's rock isn't it?" Rachel remained undeterred.

"Journey represents only single aspect of rock, but you have a point Rachel." Rachel beamed. "We've already proven that we can do rock as a group, so all the solos I'm about to assign should come out great." Rachel's face dropped as she realised she'd trapped herself.

Ever graceless in defeat, Rachel still managed a list of demands. "While I reluctantly admit that Finn and I," the others all glared at her, "and everyone else, performed Journey with a level of professionalism that I can only describe as stunning, Mr. Shue is right in that rock has many different aspects, and that glee is about diversity. Therefore I think that we should be allowed to stretch the limits of rock in this assignment so that everyone," she looked condescendingly round the room, "can find a piece they feel comfortable performing."

Aware that this is the best that he is likely to get out of Rachel, and deciding to leave the subject before someone poured lighter fluid over her and struck a match, Mr. Schuester blithely smiled and started glee practice proper, choosing to go over one of their regular routines.

* * *

After having repeatedly stumbled through a simple routine, Kurt was almost glad that glee was over. At least the Rachel Rant would be done with in a few minutes, and if he survived, Kurt could pick up the pieces of his self-esteem and continue on with his life.

Wistfully watching the other glee clubbers leave, paying extra attention to Matt's exit, still picturing the leather pants, Kurt desperately hugged Mercedes, whispering in her ear, still trying to find an out. "Please 'Cedes, save me. She almost wrenched my arm off earlier, but you could totally take her."

"Kurt, that girl is ten kinds of crazy. I'm so not getting in her way." Mercedes squeezed him back before releasing her hold. "But you're right, I could totally take her."

Mercedes left, leaving Kurt and Rachel alone. Feeling slightly nervous, Kurt gravitated towards the piano, focusing on the sheet music for their last number that was still propped up.

Seeing Kurt staring determinedly at the sheet music and not at her, Rachel took a deep breath and began the pre-prepared speech. "I know you don't always like me Kurt, and I understand that you can't help the natural reaction to being around someone with the magnitude of talent that I possess. Feelings of insecurity are to be expected. However, I have been in three romantic relationships, and actually know more gay people than you do, what with my dads. So, if you can put aside your personal feelings for me for just a little while, I might be able to help you."

Somewhat shocked at Rachel's sudden empathy, albeit diluted with her usual boastful insensitivity, Kurt looked up, only to see her wrestling with several large and colourful graphs, trying to tack them to the glee notice board. Garish pinks that belonged solely in toddler pageants featured heavily. Kurt sighed. Pulling out a laser pointer dusted with an ungodly amount of glitter, Rachel began the visual part of her presentation.

"Graph 1 shows the mean progression of gay relationships in high school, each different bar represents different landmarks in a relationship. Graph 2 shows the projected percentages of success of a relationship between you and Matt."

Kurt zoned out as Rachel's glittering laser pointer flicked between graphs and she talked up a storm. Kurt's mind wondered as he saw Rachel's enthusiasm ratchet up through the gears, taking her concern, misplaced and terrifying as it was, as a gesture of friendship. An olive branch of sorts.

"And this point is the probability of reaching third base. Are you listening Kurt, there is a high chance of fellatio!" Kurt suddenly jerked up, staring at Rachel incredulously.

As if sensing that Kurt was becoming uncomfortable, Rachel abandoned her presentation and sank onto the piano stool next to Kurt, abruptly changing her method of attack. "When I asked my dads what it was like to be gay in high school and how their relationships progressed, they told me that even when it was difficult and uncomfortable, you just have to remember that being gay is just a fraction of your total personality." Rachel glanced at Kurt. "Admittedly in your case it seems to be a large fraction. But you just have to remember that at their core people are just people, anything else, sexuality, skin colour, nationality, all that is just surface stuff. And frankly Kurt, you're picky enough that anyone you crush on must be a good person, so even if they're not gay and you don't ride off into the sunset together, they're not going to turn on you either. I mean Finn is your half-step-brother-in-law now." Rachel added with a fond smile.

Clearing his throat, Kurt stared amazedly at Rachel as he began to speak. "I really appreciate the effort that you went to with all this Rachel. Its really… overwhelming." Rachel threw out a thousand megawatt smile. "And, I appreciate your wanting to help. I can see why Finn likes you so much." Rachel blushed. "Even though your sweater makes my soul cry."

Getting up and turning around, Rachel huffed as she rooted around in her handbag, making a noise of triumph as she grabbed a parcel wrapped in rainbow wrapping paper. "Here, you'll need this." Rachel declared, thrusting the parcel in Kurt's lap as she gathered up the pieces of her presentation before marching out.

Tearing the paper, Kurt screeched at the book it concealed, each successive word rising in pitch. "The Joy of Gay Sex! Rachel Berry you are so dead!"

* * *

A/N - Sorry this chapter was slightly delayed; real life is beginning to kick my ass and writing Rachel is almost as challenging as listening to her ;)

Reviews, ideas and constructive criticism appreciated as always.


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